Rated M for violence.

Cover image © XBL GT - COL0NEL SANDERS

This is my first story. Enjoy, and please review after reading.

The Barren Land

1

Icarus

Ormond Leeston coughed into his helmet, groping in the parched gravel around him and sending up eruptions of dust with each movement. Pain punched the inside of his forehead when he breathed and his vision remained murky. He lay like this on his stomach for tens of minutes, allowing his brain to slowly reconnect the disparate images dancing through his mind. He remembered Banshees, bullets, heat, screams and fear; an overwhelming sense of fear. So he'd been shot down. He and his squad. Where?

Ormond tried to lift his head. The sunlight scorched his eyes and glazed everything with a white sheen, but he began to discern something of the area where he lay. He saw rocks and boulders, smoke, debris, and the curve of the ringworld looping majestically overhead. He rubbed dirt from his visor, glad his face had been protected from the hard rubble. Sometimes he loved that bucket.

Pushing with his arms he turned onto his back and was punished with a snapping sensation which blasted up from his leg and fried all thoughts out of his head. Ormond screamed, gagging before he'd finished and falling into another coughing fit. Then he lay motionless in the glaring sunlight, tentatively taking in small breaths of air. His skin tingled with sweat and, possibly, blood. He shielded his visor with his hands against the unrelenting sun. Possibly its polarisation capabilities had been damaged in the impact. He was in no state to check anyway.

A lifetime later he heard footsteps nearby; the sound muffled but unmistakable. Turning his head and forcing his hazy vision to focus he could make out a form – human.

"Ormond?" a familiar voice asked.

"Hey Lieutenant" Ormond laughed, waving his arm weakly in her direction. Lucy Cregsid hunched down next to him, inspecting his body. She was not wearing her helmet; allowing her chestnut ponytail to fall freely over her shoulder. Her sharp featured face was relatively unharmed save for a few minor scratches. For a crash survivor she seemed to be in enviably good shape.

"Will I live, LT?"

"Nope" she said, unclipping a small case from her back and rummaging through the contents. She cleaned his injured leg as best as she could without clean water, pumping the wound and surrounding area full of MediGel and working it into the raw flesh. Ormond winced with every touch. "You're still a wuss Corporal" she berated. Then it was done. A two-minute process, start to finish. "Now you'll live" she concluded, falling back into a sitting position.

Ormond waited for sixty seconds, inhaled and forced himself up on his rear, then finally on his feet, steadying himself on a nearby lump of red rock. Miraculously, his leg felt near-enough undamaged. He made a mental note to send some fan mail to Optican. Lucy cleared her throat and he turned to see her staring at him, arms folded. Ormond scratched his head self-consciously, realised once more that he still wore his helmet, and let his arm drop to his side. "Thanks" he managed to force out from his lips. Lucy flashed a grin and his gaze dropped back to the ground. Pathetic, he thought to himself, frustrated by his own ingratitude.

It was only now that he was on his feet his senses began to wake up fully, allowing him to take in more of his surroundings. He also became aware of the acute heat rippling through the air. The two survivors stood on a large and craggy plateau, over four hundred feet of cliff face rising above them, and he had no idea how much below. The plateau wasn't flat but rose steadily, its surface littered with debris and small fires. In the far centre lay the source of the heat - their, now smouldering, Pelican dropship.

"The others?" Ormond asked, panic creeping tangibly into his voice. This time it was Lucy who broke his gaze, struggling to stifle the worry spreading across her features. Still trying to lead by example, Ormond thought. He sighed. "Have you searched for survivors yet?" She shook her head, "I only recovered minutes before finding you".

Ormond halted. "How long do you reckon we can survive without them?"

Lucy looked up and her features hardened again. "Long enough for me to beat that head of yours for NOT obeying my orders" she snapped.

Crud. So her memory was pretty accurate, Ormond thought. He'd wanted to fire at the Banshees which had pursued their Pelican over the desert. His hands had tightened in anticipation around the handles of the Gauss Cannon which his squad had previously welded to the troop carrier tray. He'd registered the orders to fire which Lucy had screamed in his ear as the Covenant fliers approached. He still didn't know why he hadn't fired, couldn't have fired. Every limb had locked while the enemy ships neared their transport carrier, plasma boiling into metal. Then they'd fallen from the sky.

"What can I say?" he asked, ashamed.

"What would it matter?" she retorted pointedly, pushing past him and making for the crash site. Ormond scrambled over the jagged ground after her, halting beside her a couple of metres away from the wreckage.

The two waited, either one hoping the other would move first. "You know what we'll find there" Ormond finally said, aware that they'd have to inspect the ruined vessel anyway. Lucy glanced at him, expression betraying emotions again. They'd fought alongside their teammates for the better part of a year. The squad had bonded. Ormond slapped her back gently and took point.

The two helljumpers sat on the far side of the plateau, allowing their legs to dangle loosely over the edge while they watched the day blink its way into night. Comfort was neither sought nor offered. The inevitability of what they would find had failed to deaden the acuteness of their loss.

Upon entering the dropship they knew no one had survived the crash. Carefully avoiding the flames, and straining their eyes to see through the heat haze, they searched the Pelican from the back to the front. They'd found Nigel first. A strip of metal flooring had been forced upwards by the impact and was lodged in his stomach. The bloody, groping hand marks on the metal which impaled him suggested death had not come quickly. Sandra had been equally unfortunate. She had been engulfed in flames and they discovered her charred body still strapped in her seat. Dmitri. Mark. Arnold. Finally the pilot, still in his cockpit, who had been crushed almost beyond recognition. Almost, but not quite. Ormond had never known his name as he'd seemed to prefer keeping to himself, but over the past five months this man had become as much a part of their team as any of them. Others were just missing, presumably thrown out during their spiraling descent.

Ormond played with a twig on the ground, rolling it under his boot. He once again relished the privacy granted by his helmet, allowing him to mourn freely without wounding his reputation. Lucy didn't need that privacy, her features now unreadably blank. For someone who constantly sported either a smile or a scowl, this alone spoke volumes.

"Where do we go from here, Lieutenant?" Ormond asked gently. The sound of her rank being spoken seemed to remind Lucy of her responsibilities, and she cleared her throat before turning to reply. "If we'd been smart we would have made tracks by now. You never stay put. Never. Having botched that, in this hot climate we should travel by night" she sighed, "As it is, I think we're beat. I say we wait until morning". She folded her arms behind her head and lay back, eyes wide open. Ormond did the same, watching the stars blink hypnotically, his mind gradually sinking into blackness. His dreams were haunted.

Fifty kilometres away, beyond planes of rock and mountains of billowing dust, an intelligence stirred, driven by hunger and sensing prey. It moved.

Ormond blinked hazily in the sunlight, shaking drowsiness from his head and climbing to his feet. The rocky desert spread out before him endlessly and he couldn't fail to be enthralled by the panorama; the cloudless sky acting as a spellbinding backdrop. He glanced around for Lucy. After a couple of moments he saw her rummaging through piles of wreckage, collecting everything that promised practical application.

"Morning" he greeted, strolling casually towards her.

She smiled up at him and wiped sweat and grease off her forehead with one arm. "Nearly afternoon; it's 1100 hours" she said.

"What?!" Ormond spluttered. He'd overslept. Lucy raised her arms placatingly, "It's okay Corp, I let you sleep. You looked like a worn-out tyre anyway. Didn't want to have to carry you" She paused then added "Or leave you". He nodded appreciatively and inspected her findings. Assorted ammo clips, two Designated Marksman Rifles, an M7 SMG, two M6S/SOCOM pistols, a dozen Frag Grenades and an extra Health Kit to the one Lucy already carried. Ormond whistled.

"Looks like you've been hard at work. So what's for breakfast?" he asked.

The Lieutenant tossed him a can. "Cold baked beans; I found a whole mound of 'em" she smiled. Ormond pulled his helmet off and grinned, "We are so made out right now!" he exclaimed. This appeared to amuse her. "What?" he asked.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

He considered. "Should I say thank you again?" he guessed. She shook her head in response. "Can opener" she explained. This took a few seconds to sink in. "You have got to be kidding me!" he cried, stomping to the cliff edge and hurling the morning's rations into the distance furiously. Start to a perfect day. "Come on" Lucy said behind him, "Grab your stuff and let's make a move. It's late enough as it is".

The distance from the plateau to the plane could only be about sixty-six feet and, mercifully, it broke out into ledges rather than plunging as a straight drop. Ormond had managed to salvage some steel cable from the Pelican's compartment and suggested they use this to edge their way down. This proposal was accepted by the Lieutenant, who suggested that he go first.

Ormond took one last look at the Pelican. "Don't" Lucy said, "We have to move on. Not forget, but move". He nodded and tied one end of the cable around a sturdy rock near the edge, feeding the rest over the side. "Wish me luck" he said. Lucy winked. He eased himself over the edge, testing the strength of the cable cautiously. It held. He inched his way slowly down the rock face, occasionally slipping and grazing a knee or an elbow on the jagged surface, although his body armour took the brunt of the damage. After descending fifteen feet he reached the first ledge and touched down enthusiastically, relieved to have solid ground under his boots. "Now you can catch me" Lucy called down, untying the cable and dropping it down to him. "Wait! I-" he began. She didn't, leaping gracefully off the edge. Ormond struggled to grab her, the impact knocking him to the ground and winding him. She pulled herself up by the rock face then yanked him up to his feet. "My hero" she said, slapping him on the back. Despite the trauma of the last twenty-four hours, this actually made him laugh. That was something he appreciated. "Again" she said.

By 1500 hours they had made it to the plain, exhausted and hungry. The black full-body armour they wore maximised the heat, but they knew also provided valuable protection against the sun's rays. They allowed themselves twenty minutes to recover their strength. "Which way do we go?" Ormond asked. Neither of them had really considered this, instead taking things one step at a time. So they'd made it to the ground. What use was that if they had nowhere to go? Lucy scanned the horizon meticulously. Barren land lay all around; flat ground complemented by rising spires and mounds of rust coloured rock. There was no breeze and what little vegetation grew was prickly and uninviting. "Right now it doesn't matter so much where we go, just as long as we go" Lucy confessed, "Walk and pray we figure it out along the way. Let's move out".

They'd headed north. By evening the helljumpers had put a good six miles between them and the cliff bottom. This exercise left them flagging and they were ready for rest. Ormond began to realise just how hungry he was, having left the cans back at the crash site out of necessity. They were far too cumbersome to lug around with no high chance of being any real use. Instead, the soldiers had opted to carry as many weapons and as much ammo as they could without over-encumbering themselves. The evening was noiseless. Ormond hadn't noticed any wildlife on the ringworld and suspected none existed. Save for the Flood. He'd heard plenty about them, although he'd never seen them in person. Lucky.

"Chance a fire?" he asked.

Lucy thought for a moment and nodded. Ormond stripped some twigs from a nearby shrub and worked away with two rocks. He wondering for how many millennia this technique had been used. How many desperate lives it had saved. He'd like to be on that list; have a chance to figure things out. Nothing had made much sense since they'd been separated from the main forces. Apparently In Amber Clad, the frigate that had brought them to this hellhole, had been destroyed after being commandeered by the flood. He had no idea as to the fate of her crew. All communication with the main UNSC force had been lost after his squad's reconnaissance mission had led them to a Covenant base, and they made the fatal error of lingering to chart their enemies' positions. They got too close. They escaped as far as they could before the Banshees tracked them down. Keep moving, he remembered from basic training. As long as you move, you're alive. The rocks sparked, igniting the twigs, and the growing fire cast dancing shadows across the soldiers and terrain. Lucy would take first watch while he rested, and they would swap at hourly intervals to avoid the chances of the lookout falling asleep undisturbed, resulting in hours spent unguarded. It would be a long night.

Lucy raised her hand, halting Ormond mid-stride. The two soldiers had walked half the morning, beaten down by the unrelenting heat, and wearied by their lack of sustenance. Ormond listened, senses spiking as he tried to hone in on whatever had made his LT jumpy. Nothing made itself obvious but he knew from experience how little this meant. Lucy donned her helmet and stuck her arm out, lowering it slowly. Ormond crouched as ordered, his commander following in kind. Where they waited was entirely exposed, the nearest cover being over three meters away. If they had snipers trained on them now, they were dead. Ormond tightened his grip around his rifle in anticipation.

He counted to five.

A single shot rang out and the gravel by Ormond's left foot exploded. The helljumper instinctively dived to the side, rolled and came to one knee, steadying his rifle and scanning for targets.

"Gold medal there, Ormond!" a voice shouted. Lowering his rifle, Ormond focused on the two helljumpers who now appeared from their vantage spot atop a column of rock. They both dropped to the ground and, after steadying themselves, strolled towards Ormond and his CO. The ODST at the rear shoved the other in the back, receiving no acknowledgment in return.

"What-the-hell?!" Lucy spat.

The soldier at the back shook his head, "Sorry Lieutenant, Brady got out of hand". Brady, as they now identified the other, tore off his helmet and dropped it the ground. His face has large, as was the rest of him; broad and muscular. He had a short, orange buzz-cut and scraggly stubble. He green eyes looked mockingly at Ormond. "Thought you'd actually soiled yourself there" he grinned.

Lucy grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him violently. "If any of our team had to live, why-" she didn't finish, glancing away in frustration before turning back to glower eye to eye, "You're a disgrace Brady. You should see yourself!"

Brady shrugged her off and scowled back at her, "Sorry LT. Thought surviving was more important than looking like a prom queen".

"Look," Ormond cut in, "can we please just cool off!" Lucy winced, muzzling her oncoming response and turned her back on Brady, who stared round, making and holding eye contact with Ormond. Ignoring the challenge, Ormond addressed the unidentified ODST. "Is that Saif?" The soldier nodded in response and walked closer to the others, the sun glinting off his visor. "When they shot us down, I was thrown out of the Pelican. I grabbed for support and, well, grabbed Brady. We would both have been KIA".

Ormond drew a vague line in the gravel with his feet, still uncomfortable under Brady's stare. "So how come you're here?"

"Well," Saif continued in his usual calm voice, "we had the fortune of landing in the only body of water this whole hellish desert has on offer. Call it providence I guess. Anyhow, it's about two clicks east." He pulled out his water flask and offered it invitingly. Lucy nodded and took it, enjoying a long, cool drink. They shared it round, emptying Saif's as Brady had lacked the resourcefulness and foresight to fill his own flask.

"Found any of our squad?" Ormond asked between gulps. Brady wiped his mouth with his sleeve, leaving a damp trail. "Nope. Just us – the fabulous four" he smiled. Everyone was silent for several moments. This was the first time they'd ever suffered so many loses to their team. Before this op, only one squad member had been classified KIA; the one Brady had replaced. It hadn't been a good match. That was two weeks earlier.

Lucy straightened herself, passing the flask back to Saif. "Good job solider. Now the three of you, listen" she looked at them, surveying their faces, gaging their reactions, "With the captain gone, command falls to me. It's my job to get us the hell out of here. You will follow my command. Anyone who has any issues…" here she paused and directed her gaze at Brady, "say so now so the rest of us can shoot you and leave you in a ditch". Brady blinked. A fresh smile spread over Lucy's face, "3-2-1. Good! No issues. First task then, get more water". She nodded to Saif, "Take point".

The ODST's rested by the waterhole, worn out by the days traveling. Thankfully, Saif hadn't exaggerated when he said two clicks. It took little time for the helljumpers to travel there. As they sat by the banks, Ormond noticed the waterhole was about fifteen metres long, twenty metres wide and looked surprisingly deep in its centre. Anything here could follow its own rules. Saif and Brady had been ridiculously lucky. The sun began to go down, darkness slowly creeping in on them. Ormond shifted over to Saif, who was fiddling with the sniper rifle he'd carried for as long as Ormond had known him, helmet resting by his leg. He was in his early or mid-twenties, like most of them. His skin was tanned and he never allowed his black hair to grow beyond an inch long. His Arabic accent pointed to a Middle Eastern origin, being the only member of their team who had actually been born on Earth. Ormond liked him. He generally found Saif's cool-headed approach reassuring.

"Crazy few days, right?" Ormond said, hoping to spark a conversation.

Saif sighed, "We're out in the cold, yes. There's going to be some tough times ahead." He cleaned the nozzle of his gun.

"So how do we hold it together?" Ormond asked.

"Well…I'd say you know that one Ormond. Follow the chain of command, look out for your friends and keep a check on Brady. It's what we usually do".

Ormond wiped the sweat from his forehead, ruffling his hair which was beginning to itch like crazy. "What is it with that guy? You know - Brady. I took a week to adjust. He's had three."

"The man's undisciplined. If times weren't so desperate he'd be shipped home. Or court-martialed".

Ormond nodded. The team had taken a disliking to Brady the morning they first met him. Rumour had spread that he had been discharged from his last team due to cowardice. This was unconfirmed, but they knew within seconds it was justified. That was the day Mombasa was attacked. The fact that any of the helljumpers were here now was entirely unexpected. After In Amber Clad had made the jump in pursuit of the Prophet of Regret, and discovered another Halo ringworld, everything became unpredictable. Escorts, skirmishes, reconnaissance and all out conflicts had coloured the past few weeks, igniting hostility in the ranks and stretching everyone's endurance. This team was just about through and they knew it.

Ormond helped himself to a handful of peanuts. One of Brady's peculiarities was his insistence on carrying a couple of packs of salted nuts on every op. This time, it had saved them all a lot of literal bellyache. Ormond held the pack out to Saif, who took some gratefully. Ormond glanced over at the other two. Lucy was sketching what looked like a map of their surroundings on the sand. Brady was rolled in a corner, presumably getting some sleep. This reminded Ormond that he too was tired and he decided to finally get some rest. He lay on his back. The sand still felt hot against his head.

"Saif, what do we do after all this? If we win?"

Saif had moved on from cleaning his sniper rifle and was now reorganising his equipment, complete with grenades and sticky tape. He didn't look round at Ormond. "I don't think about after the war Ormond. I think we're only buying time anyway".

Ormond tried something else. "You know earlier on today - when we asked about how you're alive and stuff - you mentioned 'providence'? What's that about?"

"God".

Ormond snorted, "There's no God. You serious?"

"I'm sorry you think that way Ormond. I'm sure God wants to be friends" Saif replied gently. Ormond was about to make a retort but realised he hadn't detected any hint of sarcasm in Saif's words. The guy sounded sincere. He chose to make no response.

"Now," Saif continued, "get some sleep, I'll take first watch".

A fire lit the night; a torch sixty feet above their heads. Ormond blinked sleep out of his eyes, startled and shaken by his sudden awakening. When his eyes focused he realised they were watching a Phantom dropship blazing past them, aflame. White-blue plasma erupted from its sides as the U-shaped craft passed over their heads, blowing a wave of dust over the helljumpers on the ground. In pursuit was a Pelican, guns pummeling lead into its failing adversary and punching Ormond's ears with sound. They were headed north. Ormond ran to the side of their camp to watch as the two vehicles painted the night sky with sparks. Lucy ran to his side and gazed, wide-eyed and chilled by the rapidly cooling night. The largest eruption yet burst from the Phantom, breaking off half of one of its dual prongs which fell spiralling to the ground below. Suddenly the Pelican ceased firing and swerved smoothly to the south, leaving the Phantom to race on a downward glide. Ormond counted the seconds. He reached fifteen when an explosion announced the Phantom's landing. He glanced at the others; Lucy - face now set – stood with her arms folded. The two other helljumpers looked less self-sure.

"Folks," Lucy said, snapping a magazine into her DMR and turning to them with a grim frown, "prepare for company".